


Tread This Fantasy

by Nanashi Jones (miaoujones)



Series: Dummy [5]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Double Penetration, Falling In Love, Fingering, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-10
Updated: 2007-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Nanashi%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Renji is wondering is why he and Shuuhei do those things with Kira in the dark instead of making jokes and slapping each other in well lit bars. Then he remembers that they did slap Kira once, and it wasn't the kind of slapping you can do in well lit bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tread This Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from lyrics to Portishead's "Over."

Cocked towards his shoulder, the tilt of Kira's head tries to compensate for the curve of his torso as it slants from the hips towards Shuuhei; Kira is still upright, mostly, seated between Shuuhei and Matsumoto. Then he reaches for his drink and either misses or forgets what he was doing, because he winds up half-sprawled on the table, one arm still extended, the other folding to cushion his chin. His lashes sweep down, slow blink that isn't really a blink, like a moment of contemplation. Renji takes a moment for contemplation himself: Kira's smile right now is not the one Renji hates, it's softer and fuller, but as he studies Kira's face, Renji thinks this smile is no less a mask than the other. 

Ikkaku, quicker than Kira's sprawl, managed to snatch up the glass that used to sit where Kira's open hand rests now. As he downs the contents, Ikkaku pushes another glass over to Kira's splayed fingers. Kira's fingertips nuzzle along the bottom before his hand tips on its side and curls around the glass, just holding on without lifting. When Renji looks at Kira's face again, he sees that Kira's head has tipped to the side too and that the smile is still there as Kira watches his own thumb stroking up and down the side of the glass, up to the alcohol-line, back down, up again and tracing the line this time; his smile uncurves as his tongue traces his lip moist. Feeling a little dry himself, Renji takes a swig of his own beer.

Kira stretches more, arches up against Matsumoto's hand as it runs casually down his back; then he drags his hands to the edge of the table and pushes himself into a sitting position. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something as he turns to her but then it just hangs. Matsumoto smiles at him, and Kira smiles too; the two of them are just looking at each other and smiling. As Renji drains his glass, he hears Ikkaku mutter, "How come I can't get her to look at me like that?"

"I'll look at you like that," Yumichika says considerately. "I think I might be drunk enough to allow myself an eyeful of that hideous face of yours without going blind." 

Renji looks over just in time to see Yumichika turning Ikkaku's face to him, two fingers under the chin; looks over just in time to see the hand slapped away with laughter from both parties. "That may be," Ikkaku says, getting to his feet, "but I don't know that I'm drunk enough yet to let you!" They joke like this all the time, Ikkaku and Yumichika; they have for as long as Renji's known them, and probably from way before that, too. He never thought anything of it until now. Not that he's really thinking anything of it now; he doesn't think the two of them do the things in the dark that he and Shuuhei do with Kira, for example. What Renji's thinking is, he's wondering why he and Shuuhei do those things with Kira in the dark instead of making jokes and slapping each other in well lit bars. Then he remembers that they did slap Kira once, and it wasn't the kind of slapping you can do in well lit bars.

Ikkaku is looking around the table. "Who needs another?" He jerks his chin at Renji and the now-empty glass in his hand. "Abarai?"

"Oh!" Kira says, suddenly turning from Matsumoto to the table. "I'll get this round." But when he tries to stand, his legs bend more instead of straightening and it's only Shuuhei's reflexes and arms that keep Kira from sitting on the floor to a fresh outbreak of laughter. Shuuhei gets his arm around Kira's waist to hold him up as Matsumoto picks up the chair that went down. "I think I might be drunk," Kira announces, smiling around at them.

"You think?" Shuuhei asks and Kira twists over his shoulder to give him a smile. "Come on," Shuuhei says now, without letting go as he gives Kira a push up with his hip, "let's get you home."

"What? No!" Ikkaku protests, and Yumichika chimes in, "How annoying, to lose the lovely entertainment!"

Renji knows they're joking and there was a time he would have made the same joke, but the suggestion of Kira being entertainment makes Renji not really want to sit here with them right now. So he gets to his feet and says to Shuuhei, "I'll help you."

"Well, fuck you, then," Ikkaku says goodnaturedly, heading deeper into the bar in pursuit of more alcohol; Matsumoto, at least, bids them good night with a smile.

Outside, Kira turns his face up to the darkened sky. "Isn't it ironic," he muses, catching wet drops with his smile, "that it does this the first time you say let's go out, and we actually do?" He opens wider, tongue flicking out for the rain as Shuuhei and Renji guide him along the path. "Or," he adds in epiphanous reconsideration, "maybe it isn't so much irony, as the perfect excuse to strip out of our clothing as soon as we get in the door." His grin is for them this time, but the rain doesn't need an invitation to keep touching it.

As Renji wonders how long they're going to need to make excuses, Shuuhei just grins back. "Maybe you're not that drunk, if you're willing to go inside first this time," he says, and Kira laughs at the reference to the infamous incident of their graduation all those years ago.

They're soaked to the skin if not to the bone by the time they walk through Kira's door, so it's not unnatural to remove their clothing. And it's not unnatural to sit naked with Kira and Shuuhei, even though that has nothing to do with the rain slapping against the windows and roof. Kira is between them, Shuuhei sitting on the same side he did in the bar, which means Renji is, apparently, Matsumoto now. As he looks at Kira's back, Renji thinks about stroking down the spine the way Matsumoto did at the bar. His hand hovers without touching.

Kira's hand doesn't hover. He is touching Shuuhei, tracing first the "6" and then the "9", and then the "6" again. And Shuuhei is sitting there quietly and letting Kira touch his face. 

After a few passes, Shuuhei finally says, "Is this what you want?" 

Kira's fingers unfold, the tips resting on Shuuhei's face, splayed over the number as he looks at Shuuhei. "A tattoo?"

"The suggestion of the tattoo, I was thinking," Shuuhei says, smiling, and the open curve of the smile on one side tells Renji that Kira is smiling too, smiling back. 

"Six and nine," Kira murmurs, and Shuuhei doesn't correct him on meaning because Kira leans in to kiss the tattoo. Kira's fingertips brush over uninked skin as he presses his mouth to the tattoo. And now Shuuhei touches Kira too; now they both do. As Shuuhei touches Kira's face in ways Renji can't see, Renji traces imaginary designs on Kira's shoulder, along his back and up his nape, Kira inclining forward to give Renji an arch to slide along as his fingertips enter Kira's hair, still rain-damp, the skin his hair was resting on damp too and smelling like rain. Kira sighs, not wistful and not longing or desirous, but content. The contentment is contagious; Renji feels it infect him as he inhales, filling his lungs, sinking down slow to his belly and lower still, an easy curling weight in his balls. 

"You should get some tattoos too," he hears himself say as he watches his fingertips drift down to drip over the curve of Kira's deltoid muscles. "You'd look good with ink."

Kira turns to look at Renji over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Renji's thumb brushes up from Kira's shoulder to his mouth, drags lightly along his lower lip. "Yeah," Renji says, etching chimerical tattoos on Kira's face, on the skin hidden beneath his hair; he brushes the hair back to see the invisibly tattooed skin. When he inks Kira's lip this time, Kira's tongue flicks out like it did for the rain, soft wet touches, and Renji accepts the wordless invitation, goes inside to tattoo the edge of Kira's tongue, the edges of his teeth.

He trails away along Kira's skin, feels skin moving beneath his fingertip as Kira turns forward again. "Never had anything permanent like that," Kira says.

As Renji's fingers stroke down along Kira's spine, Shuuhei says, "Do you want that? A tattoo?"

Kira shifts aslant, triangulating with them. "I want to get fucked now."

Shuuhei smiles. "Okay. Who do you want inside you?"

"Both of you," Kira smiles, gaze sliding between them on a slow sweep of lashes.

Shuuhei laughs. "Which one of us do you want _first_?"

"Both of you." Kira shifts his weight to one hand so he can push his hair out of his face. "Six and nine." The hair falls forward again with a soft wet slap as Kira rests back on both hands, knees bending up as he spreads his legs. "Inside of me." He turns to Renji. "Do you want to fuck me again?"

Kira's blood is surely alcohol-soaked but he is clear-eyed; or else Renji's own haze matches Kira, inducing a weird sort of clarity between them. Renji nods.

"Will you fuck me now?"

Renji nods again and this time he tips himself forward to kiss the imperceptible tattoo on Kira's mouth. He paints the kiss down Kira's throat, along the collarbone to his shoulder, around to his back again; Renji kisses all the touch tattoos, caressing new ones down Kira's arm, across his chest, at the hollow of his throat as Renji licks the rain from Kira's nape. He inhales against Kira's skin, feels intoxication seeping into him, Kira's drunk infusing him, or maybe Renji's just drunk too.

When Renji turns Kira's face to him this time, his kiss misses Kira's mouth, his lips and breath and tongue brush along Kira's cheekbone. "Fuck me," Kira murmurs at the soft edge of the kiss as Renji drifts down towards his mouth. "Oh," Kira breathes, sighs, "fuck me–" and there's a little hitch, a space for a word or a name, or maybe just another breath; Kira chooses breath and then he says, "I want to feel you inside me," and Renji doesn't have to look to know that Kira's eyes are closed, that Kira is looking at something only he can see behind closed eyelids. 

So Renji doesn't look, he just closes his eyes too and kisses Kira's eyelashes where they lie flush against his skin. He feels a soft touch on his skin and he moves back, opening his eyes. Kira's eyes are still closed, his lips still parted, but Renji doesn't kiss them. He doesn't disturb the hair that brushed against his face as it fell into Kira's again. Instead, Renji bends to kiss the curved twist of Kira's neck, follows the curve down to his shoulder, kisses the soft damp hair at the nape as Kira bows his head straight forward again. 

He feels lips on his own shoulder, breath at his ear, his name breath-formed, and when he looks up, Shuuhei kisses him. Kira moans, not in the kiss but just off its axis; he slumps hard against Renji, fingers twining with Renji's up by his opposite shoulder, and when Renji looks over Kira's shoulder after the kiss breaks, he sees Shuuhei's hand between Kira's legs, can't see his fingers. 

"You still want to be fucked?" Shuuhei murmurs. 

Kira does. So they lie down, Kira tucked back against Renji on their sides, Shuuhei facing them. It's the same position Shuuhei fucked Kira in and Renji wonders if he's somehow become Shuuhei now that he isn't Ichimaru anymore, and probably wasn't Matsumoto or at least not for long. Renji wants to be himself, just wants to be himself with Kira. 

When Kira starts to ease around his slicked fingers, Renji thinks he must be doing it right this time, just the way Shuuhei would do it and now Shuuhei won't have to do it for him this time. Renji doesn't want to be Shuuhei but he doesn't mind getting things right like Shuuhei, and so he's smiling as he curves his fingers a little more inside Kira and asks, "Are you ready?" Kira looks back over his shoulder and when their eyes meet, Renji says, "Are you ready for my cock?"

Kira looks at him, smiles, slow blink, "Yes."

Reaching back, Kira strokes Renji's cock, already hard and slick from Shuuhei's stroking and Renji's own; Kira strokes Renji's slick hard cock and then he wraps around it and guides it to him. And no one needs to tell Renji what to do this time but Kira says, "Push," pushes himself back and Renji pushes in, and he's inside Kira again.

As they fuck, Kira starts pushing back more and more, pushing himself, pushed by Shuuhei too; Shuuhei's pushing both of them and Renji yields. He lies on his back now, Kira's back against his chest, Kira's body supported by Renji's, his legs coming to rest on either side of Renji's. Kira starts to reach down between their legs for Renji's cock, but Shuuhei takes his hands and moves them outside, shapes them to hold onto Renji's ass. 

Then Shuuhei tucks Renji back into Kira, and Kira starts to move again, sliding Renji's cock inside him. Renji puts his hands on Kira's hips to help him move—but Shuuhei takes Renji's hands, wraps one of Renji's arms across Kira's torso, the other just above it across his chest; Shuuhei holds Renji's hands, holding fast as Kira arches in the bond with a deep inhale, elongated sigh. 

As he fucks himself on Renji, Kira continues to whimper and arch in the embrace. Their position restricts Renji too much to thrust properly, so he just rolls his hips up to meet Kira with staccato strokes. Kira keeps jerking his hips up and down, sliding himself on those strokes, sliding himself on Renji's cock, his own cock slapping helplessly against his belly, their balls pressing against each other with their own soft slaps. Kira plays off the slaps, each soft quick "oh" succumbing to audible inhales, continuous and needy, his head turned to list against Renji's shoulder.

All the aimless slapping sparks memory and, though this is not the same as that first night, not the same at all, Renji thinks Kira might like it the same or maybe even better, thinks Kira might spark to it, and he lifts his hand from Kira's chest and brings it down hard on Kira's belly.

Kira's moan stutters at the impact, deepens in the aftermath; when Renji does it again, he feels Kira shifting, bringing his feet in closer to give himself more leverage. Kira's moans are less articulate, more guttural now as he grinds himself on Renji's cock, writhing in his arms, on his body. Renji feels the weight not just in the body he's holding close against him, weight not just on his body, not just around his cock, but inside him—inside his chest, in his very lungs, heavy and full with each breath he draws.

Kira's grip has slipped up along Renji's thighs; and then Renji feels another hand on his ass—Shuuhei, rubbing his thumb along the raphe, now rolling and massaging Renji's and Kira's balls together, Kira's sac stretching and getting tugged as he keeps fucking and fucking. 

Renji looks at Shuuhei, kneeling between their legs, stroking himself off as he touches them; their eyes don't meet so Renji watches Shuuhei watch: Shuuhei's chest rises and falls with his own quickening breath as he watches his fingers play over their balls, as he watches Renji's cock going into Kira. Renji watches Shuuhei slide down to lie on his belly between their legs, breathing open-mouthed, moistening his lips, and now their eyes do meet, and then the gaze is gone, and Shuuhei is kissing Renji's cock, must be kissing Kira's hole too because Kira's moans come all undone and shaky before his breathing finds the desperate rhythm again.

Shuuhei licks and kisses their fucking for awhile. And then there is a new silky wet touch, not Shuuhei's tongue but his finger, slicked thicker than spit. Shuuhei's lubricated finger slips along the taut arch of Renji's cock to Kira's asshole, rubbing the filled pucker as Renji's cock slides deeper and shallower and deeper inside. 

And then Kira opens, is opened up around the slide, and Shuuhei is still fingerstroking Renji's cock, only now he's stroking Renji's cock inside Kira, he's fingering Kira too. Kira gasps and loses the rhythm as Shuuhei works his way inside, slow and slick. "Do you want this?" Shuuhei asks when he is in to the middle joint.

Sucking hard on shallow breath, Kira can't answer with words. So Renji does it for him: "Yes," and it's still not enough; "More."

The gaze between Renji and Shuuhei holds, then slides away as Shuuhei lowers his to concentrate between their legs again. He worms inside, shifting and sliding in fractions of movement, sliding out in quicker fractions, pushing in deeper, stroking Kira's ass, stroking Renji's cock, and they're stroking his finger too. Kira moans thickly when a second finger joins them, arches and moans and breathes thick and heavy as Shuuhei fingerfucks him while Renji cockfucks him.

The reverent rhythm falters when Shuuhei's fingers withdraw; Kira lifts his head from Renji's shoulder to look at Shuuhei, then lets it fall back as Shuuhei smiles at him, at them. Renji imagines that Kira's eyes are closed again but he keeps his own open on Shuuhei, watching Shuuhei stroke himself slick. Renji feels himself falter when Shuuhei touches his cockhead to Renji's hole; but then Shuuhei glides up, over Renji's balls, along Renji's cock, to Kira. Shuuhei rubs his cockhead against Kira's filled hole, against Renji's filling cock—and then he nudges. Nudge, and push, and push—and, oh~, Kira opens up and closes, convulsion of acceptance, and Renji feels Shuuhei inside Kira like Shuuhei is filling both of them. Kira is tight and full, all full of Renji and Shuuhei, so tight, so fucking tight, his ass tightening around them, his thighs, his hands tightening, all his muscles going tight; breath held with tightened lungs; even Kira's heart must be tightening; Renji's is.

Pleasure ripples through Kira as Shuuhei brings Kira's foot to his shoulder, angling him open, and Renji takes more of his weight. Shuuhei enters slowly, slowing time with the fractions of his movements, making time obsolete and space too, there's only an agony of slow and full. Kira's breath is soft and agonized, his head listing more, and Renji catches him before he slips, cradles Kira against his shoulder. An agonizingly slow thrill starts to tremor in him, in them, vibrations opening up, Kira opening up as pain and impossibility surrender to desire.

There is another shift in the inarticulation and then Kira goes quiet, stuttered quick inhales, thick exhales as Shuuhei strokes him with his cock, the thick slide of Shuuhei's cock stroking Renji, more than stroking, Shuuhei fucking Kira with their cocks. The thickness in Renji's lungs is keeping him from taking deep breaths and he wonders if it is this way for Kira too; he thinks it must be. Sonance is woven into breath, like Kira is breathing not air but a softly cried litany of inarticulation. 

Shuuhei is watching Kira's face; then his eyes meet Renji's and hold a fraction before glancing away to linger over Kira's face; Renji can't see that face, so he lets his eyes close, submitting himself to this dark, submitting to touch: he feels heat and weight and sweetest friction, Kira around him, against him, Shuuhei against and with him too, Kira in his arms. He feels Kira's heaviness and shifting, feels the heat and damp of his skin. He feels Kira moving, tight and full, on his cock; he feels Shuuhei's cock stroking Kira, Shuuhei's cock pressed to his own, sliding snug, Kira around them like the tightest, hottest fist, holding them together, fucking them together and they're fucking him, saturated with fucking. As he writhes between and around them, Kira keeps moaning, sighing and whimpering from the back of his throat and deeper, offering up a rhythm and vibration of sounds like another heartbeat, the fuckpulse, and Renji gives over to it.

He opens his eyes when Shuuhei says Kira's name. Renji doesn't know if Kira's eyes are open but he guesses from the way Shuuhei is looking at Kira that Kira's eyes are still closed. "Come when you want to," Shuuhei tells Kira. 

Renji doesn't have to look into Kira's eyes to know that this is not enough. "No," Renji says, but the word doesn't come out. Still, the movement of his lips is enough to draw Shuuhei's gaze. They're still moving in the undeniable rhythm; Renji denies nothing as he mouths again, "No."

They look at each other, Renji and Shuuhei; and then with a not-quite-nod, compassion of a not-quite smile, Shuuhei slides his gaze back to Kira. "Wait, Kira; not yet." Shuuhei glances again at Renji as he bends closer to Kira, holding his words as Kira chokes a sigh at the shift and slide. Then: "Renji doesn't want you to come yet." 

As the fucking continues inexorably, Shuuhei's words, wrong as they are, thrum through Renji, coalesce unexpectedly hot in his belly, seep down to thicken and coil in his balls. Kira keeps on writhing and moaning helplessly, his arches stunted by their holds. His cock is still slapping his belly; he couldn't reach it even if he wanted to because of how Renji is holding him. Renji doesn't remember when he stopped slapping Kira and started just holding on. When he starts to loosen his arms now so Kira can touch himself, Kira brings his own hand up to hold Renji in place, keeping himself bound in Renji's arms even as he writhes more with desperate little moans. "Ask him if you can come," Shuuhei says to Kira, bending closer, driving in deeper, adding his weight to theirs: "Beg him."

Inarticulate sounds that might be malformed words come from Kira's mouth. Renji touches Kira's face blind, strokes the hair back from it, guides Kira to face him. "Don't beg," he whispers, but Kira is already murmuring a plea, shaping sighs into words—so Renji kisses him, sucks and licks the words away, consumes them unspoken. "Don't beg," Renji whispers again in the spaces between flashes of kiss, "don't beg, Kira, just come…"

And Kira does. Renji feels him tighten, feels the moan vibrating in his mouth, feels the convulsion, the thick wet release splash his hand on Kira's chest. He keeps kissing Kira, fingers threaded in Kira's hair, holding Kira in the kiss, in the orgasm.

Kira's convulsions around him and Shuuhei's cockslide against him are too much, enough to bring Renji to completion too; not enough to part his mouth from Kira's and he keeps kissing Kira through his own orgasm, through spaces of breath, lips touching, wet flashes of whimper and tongue. Shuuhei keeps fucking them through their orgasms, fucking them through their kisses, fucking them until he comes, filling Kira overfull and spilling out.

When Shuuhei is soft enough to slip out, Renji slips out of Kira too, and Kira sighs soft and shaky slow into the kiss. Kira's mouth is soft and easy against Renji, the kiss slowing, and Renji slips back from it to look at Kira: eyes closed, breathing slowed and eased. 

Renji looks up as Shuuhei moves beside him. Shuuhei helps Renji ease Kira down between them, Kira stirring but not rousing or opening his eyes, his breathing steadying, smoothing, softening. Renji looks up from Kira's face to Shuuhei's again. He feels more drunk now than when they started.

Shuuhei leans across Kira to cup Renji's nape, touching their foreheads together. As they stay in the moment, Renji wonders if Aizen and Ichimaru ever touched like this, if they had a name for what they did or if it is truly, as it feels, wordless and unspeakable.


End file.
